


Tumblr Drabbles

by RedBirdBella



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clintasha - Freeform, F/M, Hospitals, Injury, Mentioned clint barton/laura barton - Freeform, Protective Natasha, Tumblr drabbles, tw death mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedBirdBella/pseuds/RedBirdBella
Summary: Clintasha Tumblr Drabbles taken from my tumblr





	1. Clints injury

**Author's Note:**

> Clint gets injured and Natasha realises things. Angsty but mostly fluff.

“Natasha that’s a single hospital bed, I’m sure the hotel SHIELD is so kindly paying for is much more comfortable,” Coulson says announcing his arrival in his usual blunt way.

Natasha grunts looking up, “Still a bed isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s Bartons bed.”

“No, Bartons bed is back at the farm.”

Phil sighs “Y’know the nurses think you’re together right?”

“oh didn’t think gossiping was part of their job ” Natasha says flatly raising an eyebrow.

“Look, he’s going to make a full recovery, so you should get some rest, he-” 

“I’m in bed aren’t I?” 

Phil pinches the bridge of his nose restraining a sigh, 

“You don’t have to make this so difficult, Natasha, are you even listening?!” Natasha glances up, momentarily distracted, from the Clints contented sighs against her neck. The hand she’d placed under the pretence to support his neck finds the perfect spot in his hair, by his right ear. He always loved her carding her fingers through his hair in complaint when it grew to long. The hair is soft, warmed with body heat but with a slight prickle in the short stubbly areas the doctors had shaved. The first shoots of recovery. 

“Will you tell him?” Phil continues frustration showing on his face.

“That his heart stopped? I’m sure the doctors will tell him” 

“No, how you never left his side so you’d be there when he wakes up?” 

“He knows I’m there when he need me”

Phil mutters something Natasha can’t catch. It’s probably the usual rant about not being paid enough to be the relationship coach of two emotionally stunted assassins she thinks recalling the eye-roll Clint always did when he heard it.

“One day you two are going to learn to communicate like normal healthy adults and I’ll die of shock, is there anything I can do to convince you to leave?” 

Natasha shakes her head, “He needs me”

“Then why are you the one who won’t leave?” There's a softness to her handlers voice that unsettles Natasha. It’s one usually to deafen the blow of particularly bad news. She looks over at Phil hoping she can communicate the words she won't allow herself to say.

Coulson had obviously passed SHIELDS emotional communication class for repressed assassins as he relents with a final exasperated sigh “Fine. You can stay. He’ll want you when he’s awake, I’ll have a second bed put in here. At least pretend to use it - for my sake” 

It was Natasha’s turn to roll her eyes. She shifts suddenly uncomfortable from the interruption causing Clint to hums unhappy at the movement. 

“Sorry, birdbrain but this is the least you deserve. Scaring me like that” Natasha says the banter sounding hollow in the hospital room.

If there’s a reaction in his face Natasha doesn't notice it, but one of the archer’s arms sneaks around her waist, the other hand slotting into hers. His face unmoving from her neck.

“Is that better for you sir?” Hollow though it was, it was proving to be the perfect distraction.

Focusing on the familiar was all that was keeping her from addressing whatever the warm fuzziness in her chest was. Now was not the time. She had to sleep now before SHIELD process the request for a second bed, then life would get more complicated.

Clint weakly tugs at Natashas shirt ″Just cause your injured doesn’t mean you get to be so picky” she whispers with a smirk “Should be glad I’m still here after you risking your damn purple ass like that, oh- and- were in a relationship now if you haven’t heard?” The words dry on her lips before she hides them in his hair, “It’s not so bad, granted you’ve been unconscious for the duration of this relationship.” she chuckles making his blonde hair jump, she pulls him closer with her free arm “Look at me?! Must be the sleep deprivation.”

Natasha sighs gritting her teeth momentarily “It better be.”

The rooms plastic clock echos louder then something so cheap ever should. It’s an interesting torture method she concedes, forcing herself to relax searching for a distraction. 

She tries to let her mind wander but it comes running back to the man laying next to her. He was impossible, in all the best ways. He was everything the red room never intended her to meet.

To them, real men weren’t affectionate or kind or emotional or forgiving or blonde and they definitely didn’t wear purple. But as a calloused thumb brushes against her hand Natasha realises hers just might.


	2. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint, Natasha, a safe house and a lot of sexual tension.

Clint Barton has always hated undercover ops. Always. Something about slipping into someone else’s skin for the night made him queasy. When Phil had first given them the mission he’d sulked until the moment they’re plane made landfall at the drop off point. Screw Coulson and Screw Fury for pushing this through. This was a mission Natasha could complete blindfolded even if she was nursing 3 cracked ribs. Hell, screw Natasha for getting injured. Screw her. Screw her indeed. It was beginning to become a recurring theme that wandered its way across his mind at the most inconvenient of moments. Mostly when he was it when he was perched high in a suddenly claustrophobic tact suit, but that wouldn’t be happening tonight. If only because his suit for tonight was a Gucci knock-off and a cheap blue tie, all the glamour SHIELD could spare after Natasha’s fitted outfit and delicate heels she was currently battling to put on. 

“You know you’re not meant to be doing that Tasha, here let me struggle to put those- I’m going to say torture devices on?” Clint says taking the heels into his own hands.

“Well I never could resist the chance to put a man on their knees” Natasha says grinning as Clint gets down to do the latches on the side.

“it’s sweet of you to think of me as a man even in this disgusting suit”

“Shut up. It took a lot of effort, but you scrub up well” 

“And that would be a compliment if you weren’t a well-known seductress. I’m immune to your tricks. I had the antidote”

“Antidote? Really?” Natasha says eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“Yes, I’ve met you when you haven’t slept in 48 hours. I know it’s all smoke and mirrors and make up. That dress probably has some kind of magic in it.”

“Magic?! That’s what you’re going with?!” Her hands instinctively smoothing down her skirt, “I kind of like it, it’s so restrictive though. The bodice has boning in it to help support my ribs”

“Magic or not. It’ll work, you won’t be the only person with boning in their clothes tonight”

“Brave. Brave to go for that while you’re in such a vulnerable position Barton” Natasha purrs pushing the toe of her shoe into the soft part of his chin pushing his eyes up met hers. 

“Well I do like to live life on the edge Natasha” 

Clint’s mouth is suddenly dry up, the pressure on his throat causing his lips to tingle. He catches intensity of Natasha’s gaze feeling his stomach dropping the short distance to rest on the floor. The warming sensation that swirls low in his chest is becoming annoyingly familiar. However, this time Natasha blinks first withdrawing her foot quickly crossing it across her other leg defensively. Leaving Clint suddenly flickering back down to the shoes. 

“Are these designer?”

“What makes you say that?”

“They’re velvet”

“No, they’re suede”

“Well in America we call that velvet. And it’s not fair that you even get designer shoes and I can’t even have a tie that’s the right size”

“Well an heiress can’t just wear anything and if you could remember how to do the right knot you wouldn’t look you’ve just woken up the morning after prom” Natasha says grabbing a hold of the faulty tie, “I thought archers were meant to be good with their hands”

“Some of our talents lie elsewhere” Clint says with a grin. 

Natasha’s eyebrows dart up again “Good job I’m a woman with many talents”

Clint’s smile falters as his eyes are drawn to the ample cleavage on show as Natasha’s hands dance unravelling the defective knot. He quickly tries to pull his eyes up but nothing gets past the black   
widow. She smirks purring into his ear watching him make the choice between her eyes and her chest. He holds the eye contact heart race quickening. “I don’t think you’re as immune as you think you are”

“I’m only human” Clint manages when he realises she’s waiting for a response. She pulls away settling the tie against his chest, “I know. Your going to be late. Are you ready?”

Clint wants to shake his head, the cold damp London warehouse he should be arriving at seems like hell on earth compared to spending time alone with Natasha in the upmarket safe house. He shouldn’t be here to flirt in the first place, risk assessments and SHIELD guidelines been damned. But the angel on his shoulder must win out this time as he nods grasping his compact bow from the bed and stuffing it into his battered briefcase. 

“As I’ll ever be”


	3. The reason Natasha and Clint didnt get together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its Farm family compliant and the only way I can summarise it is “sometimes you need a little bad luck to fall in love”

It wasn’t the first time Clint had woken up plagued with memories of the night before and he suspected it wouldn’t be the last.

Last night he’d kissed Natasha Romanoff, or she’d kissed him. Despite the memories running round he’s head he couldn’t be sure. He knew she tasted like the hot chocolate they’d been drinking, he remembers the way her skin dragged against his post mission stumble, and he remembers the creak off the sofa as she’d pushed him away running to dry heave in the bathroom. Clint wasn’t sure what she was trying to rid herself of, the taste of him or the affection he knew she felt towards him. Not the most romantic first kiss.

It was time to bury the memories. With a single stretch Clint stumbles out of bed pulling on a shirt and some sweat pants from the broken wardrobe he was meant to be repairing. He finds the spare keys he has to Natasha’s room fidgeting with the spider keychain he’d put on for a joke. The cool metal only serving as a reminder of how sweaty his palms were becoming.

The journey is a short one, no one daring to stop him or trying to pyre into his business.

“Tasha” he calls knocking on the door, “I’m coming in OK?”

Clint counts to 15 before opening the door, startling as he sees the mess lurking in Natasha’s usually spotless room.

“Natasha?” he calls out again taking a few tentative steps into the dorm. There’s a mission folder on the bed among a few scattered belongings. It contains a single page with Natasha’s familiar rushed scribbles at the bottom. He skims the mission brief.

Tony Stark. Undercover. Threat to life. Natalie Rushman.

Damn it. Of course SHIELD would chose today of all days to send Natasha out on a mission. He wonders if he could scream but settles for a sigh instead. Right lets see what she has to say about this mess Clint thinks his eyes drawn to her hastily written note.

_Clint,_

_I’m sorry about this. Its a emergency._

_Tony Stark is dying, I’m being sent to keep him and the iron man suits safe now he’s having this end of life crisis._

_Last night was my mistake was a disaster, I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. But I’m not sorry I kissed you cause its clear now this cant work._

_I don’t know when I’ll be back but prepare many drinks for my return, call it woman’s intuition but I’ve got a feeling I’m going to need them._

_Natasha_

Clint reads and rereads the note over and over wondering what the hell to do next. This was a mess well and truly and one that he could not live in until Natasha returns. He picks up his phone and messages the next burner phone Natasha had told him she’d be using. Calls she could ignore, voicemails could be deleted but a written she’d have to at least acknowledge. He opens the encrypted app they preferred to communicate through, safe enough but in common enough use to suit a undercover phone. He pauses a second before writing the message he knows he’ll regret.

_I’m sorry about yesterday, not in I made a mistake way, in a ‘I wish it all didn’t happen way’ way. I don’t think it was how either of us wanted it to go. Amnesia is always something that can be arranged. Lets just start over._

The app acknowledges she reads it 3 hours later. He deletes the message after that sparing him the unwanted reminder staring him I’m the face each time he checks for her reply.

There’s nothing, not even a quick ok. The silence lasts for 3 days before Clint decides its time to test the water.

_Phil’s got me doing paperwork again. Hurry up and save me._

She reads it, but again there’s no reply. Slowly life moves on and the taste of Natasha’s lips leaves his tongue. News from her mission is hard to come by, but soon Fury’s praising her work with Stark and they’re new insight into the iron man tech. It all equates to one simple message.

_Boss says you’ve had a promotion, good luck! The drinks are definitely on me when you get back._

It takes two more weeks for Clint to pluck up the courage to message Natasha again. The events in Monaco push him too it, he knows what he wants to write, but he keeps to the long-understood code of keeping thing uncomplicated and uncompromised.

_I saw you on the TV, you look well. Going out tonight for Hills birthday. But I would still prefer a night in relaxing with you._

And he must be drunk later when he adds, _THAT WAS NOT A BOOTY CALL_ and doesn’t remember it in the morning.

Clint Barton, alcohol and Natasha’s number are an awful mix because he finds himself drafting messages on the nights, he finds himself drinking for two. It was only a matter of time then his common sense reasons when he finds himself scanning a message sent at 2am he has no memory of writing.

_I lied. I love you and all this radio silence is scaring me. There’s so much i want to tell you. There’s a new brunette in accounting, exactly the type you’d try and set me up with. She makes me laugh but not like you do. Oh and since your gone and you make up 95% of my self-control, i brought a house?! I’m going to do it up, cause the night I promised id forget? I can’t. You deserve a place to call home if you want. So I’m going to build one. But this is the last you’re going to hear of this cause id rather have you call me a friend then end up on your list of perverts and creeps. You have my number if you want me x_

The same two ticks have appeared in the time it’s taken him to sober up, he decides to leave it one big reminder of why alcohol shouldn’t be the painkiller he purposes it for. He drifts back into restless sleep before the sunlight wakes him and when he groggily gropes for his phone he finds his drunken antics and earned him a response.

 _Hey,_ the message starts, _I think you’ve got the wrong number. I don’t think I’ve met you before._

Clint frowns recalling his earlier message ‘amnesia is always something that can be arranged’. Oh ha ha, funny Natasha.

_Yes you have don’t mess with me like this._

_I’m not._

_Ok well my names Clint Barton. Tell me about yourself._

It should be easy to catch her out he reasons; he knew her brand of humour too well. He grins as under his encouragement she describes her work in legal, her awful goateed boss and how she takes her coffee. She even draws him in, coaxing out of Clint his own secrets. Well some secrets, he gives his job as "pest control” imagining her smile several states away. They talk for days, getting to know each other as seemingly complete strangers acting out their mundane fantasies.

_Sounds like we’re very similar. We should go out for coffee sometime._

_I don’t usually do that with guys I’ve never met before._

_“But you know me Natasha” Clint whispers softly._

_But ok, yeah, lets go. Tell me when your free._

_The 17th at 6?_

_That’s good._

_Excellent its a date. Wait you haven’t told me your name yet?_

Clint types knowing Natasha will use her current alias Natalie Rushman to keep her cover. He grins as he sees the speech bubble appear checking the number again, wait no, that’s not right. Natasha’s number should have ended in a 5 not a 3. His phone buzzes into life message drawing his attention.

_Oh sorry. My names Laura._

**Author's Note:**

> I really loved writing this. If anyone has any comments or suggestions please feel free to ask.


End file.
